


Not Vengeance, Justice

by rosabot



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosabot/pseuds/rosabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dick Grayson's parents are killed, billionaire Bruce Wayne takes him in, free of charge. Learning how to avenge his parents, however, will cost him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I seriously dreamed all of this. I woke up, thought, "wtf self?" and knew that I had to type it up as a fan fic. Don't worry, I already have plenty more typed up, waiting to be posted. Enjoy!
> 
> Please leave helpful critiques <3

Dick Grayson was sixteen years old when his parents died. The Flying Graysons had been performing a routine in Gotham that they had done a million times before flawlessly, and everything was going smoothly. John and Mary Grayson had both suspended from the trapeze that had been tampered with before the show by Boss Zucco's goon, and while Gotham's happy circus-goers and Dick Grayson watched, they plunged together to their deaths.   
Knowing it wasn't an accident, that his parents had been better than that even on their worst day, Dick dedicated himself to uncovering the truth, even as he was passed from group home to group home. The two months following the tragedy were not spent grieving, but investigating. His temporary caregivers grew concerned that the young man never cried, never shared his feelings, and never stopped sneaking out to the bad parts of Gotham. Questioning Dick about extended family never got anywhere, and half-hearted searching didn't turn up any adults who he could be shipped off to.   
Eventually, Dick heard the frightened whispers of all the children who had been left alone in Gotham by criminals' callous actions. Whispers of a billionaire named Bruce Wayne, who it was rumored would eventually approach boys orphaned by such events as the Grayson's fall. So Dick waited, day after day, for Bruce Wayne's arrival to his group home. He no longer snuck out to wander the city. He would not leave the house for anything less than the threat of a beating if he didn't run to the corner store for some milk for the other children.  
At the end of those two months, Dick heard a polite, sharp knock on the door. He ran to the front of the house and nearly wrenched the door off his hinges, but paused immediately after he saw an older gentleman at the door. This was not Bruce Wayne. The boy deflated and averted his eyes, mumbling, “Can I help you?”  
“You may call me Alfred,” the old man beamed down at the sullen teenager, “and I believe that I shall soon be calling you Master Dick.” 

After straining for two hours to hear the hushed conversation between the adults in the locked living room, Dick scrambled away from the door as he heard footsteps approaching. He tried to appear nonchalant as he leaned against the wall next to the hallway window. However, his eyes gleamed and the tension in his posture gave him away easily. The woman running the group home scowled at him, but Alfred was all gentle smiles.   
“Master Dick, if you would kindly gather your possessions, we can be on our way immediately,” he intoned with subtle cheer in his quiet voice. Dick's feet were already pounding up the stairs by the middle of the old man's sentence, and Alfred chuckled to himself. He pulled out a folded newspaper and settled into an armchair to wait.

Barely through reading one article, he was startled by the crashing of teenage feet back down the stairs, and the ragged breathing that panted, “Ok...I'm ready...to go.” Dick was smiling for the first time since he was sent to that first home on that first awful night. Without a word, Alfred stood, smiled, and held his hand out to take one of the bags. Dick smiled a tight little smile at the show of kindness, but shook his head and gathered all his belongings in his arms before pushing the door open with his foot and leading Alfred down the front stairs to the gleaming black limousine that was obviously waiting for them. All the other cars on the street were beat up Toyotas and old-model pick up trucks with hubcaps missing. Dick took one last look around, inhaled, and tossed his bags into the backseat before launching himself in after everything in the world he owned. 

Eventually they left the city proper and entered the nicer, more suburban fringe where small mansions peppered the green landscape. Man-made lakes and landing strips for personal planes could be spotted here and there, not-so-subtle reminders that these people had more money than Dick had ever dreamed of. The limousine slowed at the base of a sweeping, uphill driveway, and Alfred finally broke his comfortable silence. “Welcome to Wayne Manor, young Master Dick. I believe you shall be quite happy here.”  
Dick said nothing, but a small part of him hoped that Alfred was right. The rest of his mind remained focused on the rumor that he had heard from the street kids: That this was the route to his revenge.   
Alfred led Dick up the ornate stairs to the front door situated between rows of giant pillars, so tall that they spanned all three stories of the mansion. The front door was open and swung readily at the old man's gentle touch. He never hurried, but moved with assured confidence and ease that spoke of how long he had lived in the manor, serving various members of the Wayne family. Dick's stomach tightened as he realized how real this all was, how right the rumors had been. The foyer opened into a space as large as any of the hotel rooms he had always shared with his parents, and larger than most.   
A man, middle-aged and tall, was walking to greet them. He was wearing a tailored black suit, with dark hair and blue eyes. He had a quiet grace about him despite the muscled bulk that refused to be disguised by the elegant lines of the suit. Once the man felt Dick's eyes drawn to him, a gentle smile spread across his face. He held out a hand toward the teenager, not approaching so fast as to intimidate him. “Welcome to my home,” his deep voice rumbled in the large chest, but the sound was comforting rather than threatening. “I am Bruce Wayne.”  
Placing his own smaller hand timidly into the extended hand, Dick let out the breath he hadn't realized that he had been holding and murmured, “Dick Grayson. Thank you...” He faltered, not sure how much to acknowledge up front. “Thank you for opening your home to me.” He stopped there, not wanting to push.   
Bruce shook his hand firmly, then let it go. “This is your home now, Dick. If you ever need anything, the entire house and Alfred are open to you.” He chuckled, “Alfred knows this house better than I do, so don't hesitate to ask him anything.”  
Alfred, who had been standing quietly by the grand staircase, cleared his throat politely in acknowledgment. “Come along then, Master Dick,” he called, “we shall get you settled straight away.”


	2. The envelope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson gets to know more about the man who took him in, Bruce Wayne. He also receives an envelope late one night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter two! As always, please feel free to leave helpful critiques, they help me out a lot <3 Thank you so much for reading!

The first few days were a very uncomfortable transition for Dick Grayson. He had free reign of the manor, and yet none of the empty rooms interested him. He kept to his own room, and even that felt more like one of the hotel rooms that he was used to. His toiletries were still in the bag on the bathroom counter, his clothes were in the suitcase on top of the ornate dresser, and he made the bed every morning so the maid wouldn't have to. On the rare occasion that he did leave the room for meals or exploration, however, he would return to find the sheets tucked in more tightly and the pillows set in a more symmetric pattern, so his efforts seemed to be for nothing.   
It was only at those meal times that Dick ever saw Bruce, who he still called “Mister Wayne” out of reflex although he had been asked multiple times to use the less formal “Bruce” or “Mister Bruce,” if the informality was too much for the young man. Mister Bruce would always read the newspaper right before dinner, and would tell Dick about the stories while eating. He always made a point of asking for Dick's opinion on the pieces, stressing the importance of lawfulness and justice.   
It was during such a conversation that Dick learned that Mister Bruce's parents had also been murdered by criminals. The rumor jumped instantly to mind, and Dick realized now more than ever that it was probably true. Mister Bruce had not yet approached Dick to make the supposed offer, but the fact that he also had a reason for vengeance made everything seem incredibly possible.  
“You knew your parents were murdered,” Dick approached the subject slowly, “and you found out which boss was responsible. Didn't you want...You know...”  
“Revenge?” Mister Bruce supplied, “Vengeance? Of course I did. It's human's natural reaction to having things we love violently taken from us, don't you think?” He held Dick's eye contact while the young man nodded grimly. Mister Bruce then looked away and repeated in a softer voice, “Of course I did.”

Dinner ended soon after that. Dick felt a little guilty about pushing such an unpleasant topic, but he was dying for Mister Bruce to finally approach him, as he had with other boys. To make that offer that Dick hoped and prayed was not just rumor, that it was in fact...fact. He felt that he had subtly been able to effectively communicate with Mister Bruce that he was ready, that he would accept the offer. There was nothing left to do but wait in his room and see if his caregiver would pay him a visit.   
An hour dragged on, and turned into two hours. Dick was too nervous to watch tv, or read. He simply sat in his bay window and stared out at the darkening landscape, watching the hills and trees slowly swallowed up by the darkness. A small cloud of bats rose suddenly from a crack in the manor's foundation where it butted up against a cliff, silhouetted against the wine-red sky for a fleeting moment before they ducked into the dark grove of trees.   
A quiet knock sounded on the bedroom door. Dick's head jerked up, and he took a moment to take in some deep breaths before calling out, “It's open! Come in.”  
The door swung open unhurriedly, and Alfred stepped in, his manner gentle as ever. “Good evening, Master Dick.” He smiled, seeming to note the young man's obvious disappointment. “Expecting someone else?”  
Dick started, then began to stammer, “N- no, I just...”  
“It's alright,” Alfred chuckled, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I believe that this will cheer you right up. You have been expecting this, I think.”  
Dick's heart began to race as the old man handed him an envelope. It wasn't sealed, but the top flap had been tucked neatly into the body. “Is this from him?” He breathed. Alfred nodded, smiled, and took his casual leave of the room.

The envelope was a thick, cream-colored paper. As Dick slid the top out, his fingers began to tremble. There was a single sheet of paper in the envelope, folded into thirds. He took deep breaths as he pulled it out and set the envelope carefully on top of the dresser. Staring at the folded piece of paper, Dick's feet found the edge of his bed, and he sank down onto the plush surface. This was it. The offer.  
Slowly, as if he couldn't believe that this solid object was real, he opened up the folds of the paper. The text on the page was typed, and not signed. He supposed that was to protect Mister Bruce if the object of the offer refused him, as what was proposed was not legal in any sense. His eyes flew over the words without reading the details, he was so excited to absorb it all. Dick made himself pause, return to the top of the page, and start over to read every single word.


End file.
